Last Lines Challenge

Last Lines Challenge

I saw @phoebe-delia and @the-starryknight do this tag and I loved their snippets so much I wanted to join in! 

This line is from my current wip, you can find the first couple chapters here 

 She waits for Harry to nod slowly, for Draco to dip his head back to the plate in front of him, before winking dramatically. Harry feels the warmth of a blush spread across his cheeks. 

I’m tagging @sorry-i-ship-drarry ,  @silver-de-vonne and anyone else who sees this to share the last lines of whatever they’re writing! 

Harry spends the next hour carefully focused on the parchment in front of him. He focuses on the scratch of his pen over the parchment, the rough edge of the paper against his fingertips, the couch steady and solid under his body. He refuses to look at Draco. He can go an hour without looking at Draco. It shouldn’t be hard.

It’s excruciating.

Eventually, Harry gives up and lets his gaze skitter across to where Draco is sitting. He freezes for a second, his breath caught in his throat.

Draco’s asleep. He’s tucked up against the side of the coach, his papers still hovering in the air around him. He’s curled into himself with his limbs bent awkwardly, quiet snuffling breaths escaping him. The flames of the fireplace leave his features in shadow. As he dreams, his lashes flicker against his cheek.

When Draco had sauntered into the DMLE Harry had pictured it would end in angry words and an ache in his chest. He’d never thought it could lead to this, Draco wrung out and seeking comfort on the left side of his couch.

Maybe Theo was right. Maybe Draco had cared more than he’d let on.

Read full work here 

Nostalgia is like hey remember that time in your life when you were unbearably sad and angry all the time? What if you weren't? What if you actually miss it? What if magnolia trees never smell like that again?

Ready or Not 

Hermione had been shaking when she told him. She’d had to clear her throat several times and her pulse was pounding so loud in her ears that she almost couldn’t tell if she’d finally gotten the words out. 

The way Ron had reacted had been enough confirmation. She’d sat frozen as the sucker-punch pain of it all spread across his wide blue eyes and twisted it’s way over his mouth.

 “It’s okay ‘Mione, I understand,” He’d said softly, his cheeks pale and his hands clenched into fists. 

Hermione knew he didn’t. 

She’d never told him that there was someone else. It was never going to happen anyways.

Until…

Until, one night it did. 

They were drunk and giddy in the blue dusk of Harry’s garden when she stumbled and rough hands caught her waist ceasing her fall.

Suddenly, Hermione was looking up into wide eyes and blown out irises and she’d needed to remind herself to draw a breath against the tightness of her rib cage. 

They stood there for a second as if suspended in time before their lips brushed together. The kiss felt like a long time coming, like ready or not. 

When Hermione pulled away she looked up into Ginny’s warm brown eyes and smiled softly. The ache in her chest finally felt warm.

Inexplicable Things (Ch. 4)

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Theodore Nott, Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini

Summary: No way, no way in hell. Draco is supposed to be in France or America or, wherever else he’d deemed more important than Harry when he left five years ago. Draco is not supposed to be showing up at the DMLE out of the blue, forcing Harry to watch him as he struts confidently across the room towards him.

Read on on AO3 here

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 

Chapter 4 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Draco mumbles, as he shifts from his sleeping spot into a more proper sitting position.

“Like what?” Harry says wide eyed and innocent.

“Ugh, you’re impossible” Draco retorts, running his hand through his tousled hair, “So what’d you say Harry? Are you going to help me drown my sorrows?” His smile looks strained and manic. The twinkle in his eye is a bit dull.

Harry looks at him and wants to tell him no, that he thinks they should talk things through, that they should be sober for it. His eyes trace across the strange tension in Draco’s shoulders, the sad downturn at the sides of his mouth, and realizes that maybe that would be selfish.

No matter what Draco says about Narcissa it’s clear her hospitalization has shaken him to the bones. He’s seeking Harry out for comfort, not for an in-depth analysis of their shared past. If Draco wants to get blazingly drunk then that’s what they’ll do.

“Depends what we’re drowning them in,” Harry tells him and Draco’s smile spreads a little wider. Harry’s certain he’s made the right choice.

~~~~~~~~~

Some twenty minutes later, they’re sitting on the floor in Harry’s living room with an odd assortment of firewhisky, butterbear, soda water and some multicolor syrups that Ginny had stolen from Ron’s bar a couple weeks before.

Harry watches Draco dubiously as he carefully pours the liquids together into tall clear glasses. He stirs for a second, lips pursed and brow furrowed, before pushing one across the table towards Harry.

“Bottoms up,” He says, picking up his glass. Harry mirrors his movement gingerly, lifting the rip to his lips and taking a tentative sip.

He quickly sets the glass back down spluttering, “Merlin, that stuff is foul!”

Draco raises his eyebrow and sips his drink calmly, “This is the type of drink they used to serve at pureblood parties back in the day.”

Harry blanches, grabbing the soda water and gulping it down straight. “Didn’t know purebloods had a taste for decomposing dishwater.”

“Oh my God Harry shut up.” Draco says. Harry wonders again where he’d picked up Muggle swears.

“Here,” Draco continues knocking a new glass against his arm. Harry reaches for it and breaths a quiet sigh of relief when he realizes it’s pure firewhisky.

“Alright, race you to the finish,” Harry says.

“Hey, no fair. My drink’s like four times the size of yours,” Draco whines.

“Your fault for being so posh.” Harry tells him, winking over the rip of his glass.

“Fine. Be like that.” Draco tosses his blonde hair behind his shoulders and picks up his glass hastily.

Draco lifts the glass to his lips and begins drinking, and drinking, and drinking. Harry can’t tear his gaze away from the way his throat undulates in the firelight. He can’t stop thinking about reaching one of his hands out and feeling the way it moves. By the time Draco slams his glass down onto the coffee table and wipes his wet mouth on the back of his hand Harry’s head is spinning in a way it shouldn't until he’s at least four drinks in.

“That was actually pretty impressive,” he says rather hoarsely, his eyes darting from Draco’s mouth to his throat and back again.

“I know,” Draco winks at him. Harry tries unsuccessfully not to blush.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Theo and Ginny arrive home with Dean in tow Harry and Draco are thoroughly drunk.

Harry watches them enter the room through blurry eyes and wonders if he should be embarrassed by how totally gone they are on a weekday. Then, Theo stumbles on the corner of the rug and Dean tries to right him unsuccessfully and they tumble onto the floor giggling, and Harry realizes that him and Draco might not be the only drunk ones in the room.

“Well, well, well, “ Draco says with a gentle slur in his words. “Look who’s joined the party.”

“Ooo what are you drinking?” Ginny asks, dropping to the floor next to him and closely examining his cup.

“Ugh, don’t even ask, it's horrid,” Harry groans, his stomach recoiling with just the thought of Draco’s drink.

Draco offers Ginny his glass and she disregards Harry’s advice taking a large swing.

“Ohhh,” She breathes happily, raising the glass to her lips a second time,”This reminds me of when I would sneak drinks at parties when I was younger.”

“I can’t believe you two,” Harry says grumpily, wrinkling his nose in protest.

“Don’t be put out Harry, I’ll drink firewhisky with you,” Dean tells him plopping down onto the wood floor next to them.

“Oh good,” Harry grins at him dreamily, handing over his glass.

When he looks back over at Draco, he’s watching him, a funny light in his gray eyes. Harry’s cheeks flush and he focuses on the floor in front of him.

~~~~~~~~~

Ginny decides that they need to play drinking games. They start with charades. Ginny and Draco quickly team up to get Theo as drunk as possible and Harry and Dean retaliate giving drinks only to Ginny and Draco in response. Harry’s face aches from laughter. Eventually, he’s drunk enough to try Draco’s horrible concoction again and he’s shocked to find it worryingly good.

“All right, for our next game,” Ginny proclaims with glee. “We will be playing the wonderful game of twister.” She pulls the box out of the living room cabinet with a flourish. “Whoever falls down first drinks!”

Harry groans. He should have known it would come to this.

Ginny had been introduced to Twister at one of Hermione’s parties and ever since she forced them to play it any chance they got. A lump in his throat arises at the thought of tangling his body against Draco’s in the presence of other people and he swallows it down quickly before grabbing the corner of the Twister sheet and helping Ginny arrange it on the floor.

Several minutes later, Harry’s laughing so hard he can barely hear the instructions. He’s bent forward in a downward dog over Dean’s legs and everyone else is tangled above them in a quivering know of octopus-like limbs. He can hear Ginny’s giggles close to his left ear. When Draco is coached to move his left hand to yellow, Dean's elbow knocks into his back and he sways into Draco's side as his body moves in beside him. Gasping and cursing they right themselves and narrowly avoid a tumble onto the floor. Draco’s warmth against him sends a hot tingle up his side and Harry narrows his eyes on the brightly colored dots below him in an effort to ignore it.

Then, Ginny calls the next instruction and Theo knocks into the back of Harry’s knee and suddenly they all lose their balance, tumbling towards the floor.

Harry gets lost in the warm press of bodies above him. When the chaos finally settles he opens his eyes and suddenly becomes aware that he’s laying flat on his back with Draco sitting on top of him, legs tangled together, and Harry's arms splayed above his head.

“Oh” Harry gasps, chest still heaving from laughter.

“Looks like you fell first if you’re underneath me,” Draco says smugly, his face very close to Harry’s. His breath smells bitter like alcohol and sweet like syrup. Harry finds himself acutely aware that it would take only a little movement to brush his lips across Draco’s mouth.

Harry meets Draco’s eyes and sees his realization reflected there. They stare at each other and the air feels static around them. Harry thinks he could change everything if he leaned up and let their lips brush right now, where his friends could see them, where Draco might realize that he’s not something that Harry wants to hide. Draco’s eyes widen a fraction.

Then, Ginny knocks into them and Draco tumbles off of Harry’s lap in a whirlwind of limps and Harry’s still laying on the floor, flat on his back, lips cold and empty.

“Get up Harry! It’s time for you to drinkkk,” Theo tells him in a sing-songy voice, kicking him swiftly in the leg.

~~~~~~~~~

Dean’s the first one to fall asleep. It feels like it happens in a split second, one minute they’re sitting around the coffee table talking, the next Dean is sprawled out across the dark green upholstery snoring softly.

“Well,” Ginny says quietly, so as not to wake him, “I guess it’s time to go to bed.” She pushes herself off of the floor clumsily. “This was great, we should all do this again.” She pats Harry, Draco and Theo sloppily on their heads and stumbles off to her bedroom.

“Ugh, she’s right.” Theo mumbles sitting up from where he’d been laying across the floor, “I can’t believe we have work tomorrow.” He uses the coach to hoist himself into a standing position and knocks against the coffee table precariously before righting himself.

“Have a goodnight!” He calls, flapping his hand in a tired wave as he disappears into his room. His light flicks on, illuminating the hallway in a bright stripe before the door clicks closed definitively leaving Harry and Draco alone together in the living room with nothing but the dim glow of the dying fire.

“I don’t think I’m sober enough to apparate home,” Draco tells him, his voice tentative.

Harry glances over at Draco’s flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes and knows he’s right. “That’s fine, you can stay here.” His tongue feels cumbersome in his mouth and the words come out soft and blurry.

For a long moment Draco looks at him, just looks. “Okay.” He says, a smile spreading across his face sudden and hesitant.

“Oh, but the coach is taken,” He observes flatly, looking at Harry defeated.

Fuck, it is, Harry thinks frantically. The only place left is his bed and he’s not sure if he can handle that. Not when Draco’s the one who broke his heart into scattered pieces that he’s still trying to assemble.

“So,” Draco says slowly, as if he’s feeling out the words, “We could share your bed? I mean, we’ve done it before.”

Harry stills for a moment, his gaze settling on Draco’s face. He watches as he catches his lip between his lips and bites it nervously.

“That does seem like the only solution,” Harry says with a calmness he isn’t feeling, “Come on then.”

Draco blinks up at him for a second with an expression on his face that Harry could only describe as disbelief. “Oh yes, okay.”

~~~~~~~~~

Inside Harry’s room Draco stands awkwardly in the corner while Harry scorers his drawers for something that Draco can sleep in. He settles on a large light blue t-shirt and tosses it over. Draco catches easily and begins to shrug off his shirt. Harry catches a glimpse of collarbones and the dark edges of a tattoo before a sudden urge of want slams through him, and he has to turn away, busying his hands by rifling through the clothes in front of him.

When he turns back, Draco is wearing the shirt draped over his body. The end of it falls just above the hem of his boxers revealing pale slender thighs. Harry needs a moment to collect himself and he realizes that over the course of the night he will spontaneously combust from sexual tension.

“I might have a toothbrush you can use,” Harry tells him, leading Draco over to the ensuite bathroom that he’d been lucky to win off of Theo during a tireless summer of cutthroat pool games. He rummages around under the counter and manages to unearth a pale blue toothbrush encased in a clear plastic wrapper.

“I know how much you hate relying on cleaning spells for your teeth,” He says casually as he extends the toothbrush towards Draco’s hand.

As Draco takes it hesitantly their skin brushes sending a burst of heat through Harry’s fingertips.

In need of a quick distraction Harry steps away from him into the bedroom and shrugs off his own shirt to change.

Draco makes a noise sort of like a high pitched hum and Harry swings back around, noticing the way the toothbrush is sliding through his lips, his cheeks hollowing around it.

“What?” Harry asks, unsuccessfully trying to look away from Draco’s mouth.

Draco’s response is garbled by toothpaste and he turns back to the bathroom mirror swiftly. The back of his neck looks a little pink.

Harry is finding it hard to think, so he lets it slide, turning back into the bedroom.

He feels like his skin is stretched so tight over his body that it might burst. It takes every inch of his restraint to keep himself from striding into the bathroom and wrapping his hands firmly around Draco’s slim waist and pushing him back into the cool granite counter. Instead, he heaves a giant trembling breath and shakes the blankets flat over the bed.

“Hurry up.” He calls to Draco, grabbing his face-wash off of the dresser and crowding back into the bathroom.

Draco inhales as if he’s about to say something but then stays quiet, stepping away from the sink.

Harry brushes his teeth and washes his face quickly. When he raises his face from the water his eyes meet Draco’s in the mirror and he realizes that Draco’s been standing there watching his whole routine. “Come on let's get to bed,” He tells him, and his voice comes out low, gentler than he had planned.

Harry leads the way into the bedroom and Draco follows quietly. He hovers at the end of the bed for a moment as Harry burrows deep under the duvet, sighing gently at the cool slip of sheets against his skin.

“Get a move on Draco, we haven’t got all night,” He taunts softly. He hopes Draco can’t tell that his hands are sweating or that his heart is beating so fast it feels like he may actually have a heart attack at the tender young age of 25. Inevitably, he feels the dip of the mattress as Draco slides in beside him and his pulse speeds up even more. Every molecule in his body aches to move in closer and Merlin, this is really going to kill him isn’t it? There’s no way he’s going to survive the night.

Draco shifts beside him and their calves brush. Harry just barely manages to suppress a full body shiver. He wants to hex himself in the face.

“Goodnight,” Harry tells Draco, focusing extra hard on the ceiling above their heads.

“Goodnight,” Draco echos, the timbre of his voice cutting straight to Harry’s core. He’s silent for a moment before he continues. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Harry responds and realizes that he means it.

He reaches over and flicks off the light, plunging them into darkness. It feels more intimate like that. The two of them alone with only the sound of their breath and the soft whisper of sheets.

“Are you warm enough?” Harry asks. He wants to punch himself the moment it’s out. Circe, it sounds like he cares. Which he does, but like, Draco doesn’t need to know that. At least not now. Not when they’re drunk and Harry is seconds away from doing something stupid.

“Yes.” Draco says simply. “You know me, I don’t get cold too easily.”

You know me.

Harry’s lungs feel tight. It would be so easy to turn over, to catch Draco’s lips against his.

Then, Draco’s body shifts and he feels him turn away, towards the wall. There is enough space between them for another body, a marked difference from the times they’d shared a bed, when they were wrapped around each other so tight Harry almost couldn’t tell where his skin ended and Draco’s began. Harry breathes in and thinks he can smell hints of Draco’s aftershave, fresh traces of citrus and cedar. He feels cold even under the billowing blankets. Shivering, he turns on his own side and faces the opposite wall. He can’t shake the feeling of Draco’s presence beside him and it takes him many minutes before he falls into a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry wakes once during the night to a heavy warm weight around them. He’s hot in the blankets and he tries to kick it off only for it to squeeze him tighter. He opens his eyes a little to the pitch black room and startles a little when he realizes that Draco has turned over in his sleep and he’s clutching at his waist tightly like Harry might vanish at any second. His sleeping breaths tickle at Harry’s neck. Harry holds himself very still.

Draco makes a noise in his sleep and shifts backwards a bit, pulling Harry with him and pressing their bodies flush together. Harry rests his head back against Draco’s chest and tries to relax. His eyes find the clock on his nightstand. It reads 3:34 am. Harry feels like he’s in a haze, like they’ve entered an alternate universe where only the two of them exist. He closes his eyes and slides his hand to cover Draco’s. Draco doesn’t even stir. He lets himself melt into the gentle comfort of body heat beside him. It takes almost an hour for him to drift back to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

The second time Harry wakes up there's a gentle light drifting through the curtain and the sheets are cold beside him. He thinks Draco might have snuck out in the night and he suddenly feels nauseous.

He rolls over onto his back trying to get a grip on his emotions and is startled to find Draco sitting up in bed next to him ramrod straight and as far away from Harry as possible.

“Um, is everything alright?” He mumbles carefully, surreptitiously wiping a bit of drool from his cheek.

Draco turns to look at him, his gray eyes rimmed with red, “You know the thing you said yesterday about my mother? Is that how you feel about me?”

“Um, what?” Harry says dumbly, pushing himself up until he’s sitting against the headboard next to Draco.

Draco still looks so beautiful even when he’s falling apart. Slowly a tear traces its way down Draco’s pale cheeks. Harry reaches out and catches it on his finger.

“I’m selfish, but you can’t stop loving me?” Draco asks, voice cracking. Then he pauses, his eyes flashing panic. “I mean, um, uh. Not love me but like you’re still attracted to me, or like, like me even though I’m selfish?” His face flushes brilliantly and he pulls his knees up into a ball hiding his face in them.

“Um, yeah.” Harry answers his voice slow and somber like each word is being dragged out of him, “I guess that’s how I feel.”

“Oh,” Draco looks down at him again, eyes wide and dark.

Harry blinks and rubs a hand over his eyes. His voice comes out scratchy. “You could have stayed and talked to me. You didn’t need to just... leave.”

“Fuck,” Draco breathes softly, angrily brushing the tears off of his face. “I loved you so much back then,” The words come out in a rush not fully formed.

Harry blinks at him, not sure if he’s heard correctly.

“I didn’t know how to say goodbye. It’s stupid. I know. I’m stupid. I just thought if I didn’t say goodbye it wouldn’t be real, that things wouldn’t seem so final.” He tilts his head back against the wall and looks fixedly at the ceiling. Another tear rolls quietly off his cheek.

“You..” Harry breaks off and stares at Draco silently for what feels like the better part of a decade. The air feels brittle around them.

When he finally speaks there’s a tremor in his voice, “You loved me?”

“Merlin, Harry. Of course I did.”

Draco finally looks at him and they stare straight at each other for a long time. Harry’s hands begin to shake. “I-” his voice comes out too soft and he coughs slightly before continuing, “I felt the same way.”

“What?” Draco blinks at him, gray eyes bright and bottom lip trembling.

“I loved you. I thought it was so clear.” Harry shifts slightly until his side presses against Draco. The body heat between them feels comforting and helps him stabilize himself. “I loved you so much I couldn’t see a way out. When you left -” He breaks off his eyes shiny with tears, “When you left I didn’t know how to picture a life without you.”

“Harry,” Draco says gently, “I never thought you would love someone like me. I’m awful. I’ve done awful things. As much as I tried to convince myself we had a chance I just couldn’t believe it. I’m sorry I left but you didn’t need to rub it in how fast you moved on without me.”

“What?” Harry asks voice shrill, “I didn’t move on. At least not for so long. What are you talking about?”

“I was in France, not another planet, Harry. I saw the newspapers. You don’t need to pretend.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Harry’s voice rises with each word. His eyes are wild.

“You got back together with Ginny,” Draco spits at him, “I saw the papers. Everyone knew about it. I can’t believe you’re acting like it never happened.”

“I didn’t get back together with Ginny.” Harry speaks slowly, carefully enunciating every word. He feels a flicker of anger lick at his ribcage and he takes a deep breath. Getting angry at Draco has never worked. They have to talk this through.

“You were photographed leaving a pub together right after I left.” Draco says, cold and venomous. “All the headlines were variations of Weasley-Potter: Romance Rekindled. I didn’t believe it at first but then I saw the photographs. You were hanging all over each other and you just looked so happy. That’s when I knew I didn’t stand a chance. That there was no way you could have loved me.”

Harry stares at him shocked. Draco catches his gaze and holds him there, his silvery eyes seem to search him right down to the bone.

Suddenly Harry remembers.

~~~~~~~~~~

It had taken a full week for Ginny to convince Harry to leave his room. She’d arrived on his doorstep after dinner time holding a plate of extra food and Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d ate. She forced him to eat it, her bright eyes tracing his hands as he lifted each morsel to his mouth. She hadn’t asked what was wrong. If she had, Harry would have thrown her out, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

Instead, she’d sat with him and told him all the drama he’d missed. She’d described Ron and Hermione’s latest fight and told him all about the prank Luna had played on Neville. The normality of it all caused Harry’s numbness to fade a little. So, when Ginny had invited him out to the Hog’s head that night he’d said yes. He was tired of wasting time on Draco. Draco had left. Draco had shown him who he was and Harry was ready to listen.

At the pub they got deliciously drunk. Harry’s limbs felt loose for the first time all week. He watched as his friends twireld and spun in the rainbow lights and he felt hope that one day he would be happy again. When Ginny and Ron had pulled him into their outrageous rendition of the chicken dance he joined in. The smile that spread across his face felt alien but okay. Things would be okay.

They’d drifted out of the pub in twos, wrung out and full of light. He and Ginny were the last to leave. The spring night was cold and they'd huddled together for warmth. Harry had draped his arm around Ginny’s shoulders, Ginny burying herself in his side. Outside the pub they’d stumbled several times. They’d been laughing at the hilarity of not being in control of their limbs when a flashbulb went off in their face blinding them.

“What the hell,” Ginny had screeched.

“Shit,” Harry had said, softer, before turning on his heel and apparating them up closer to Hogwarts.

The papers had published the picture of them the next day, spouting rumors of rekindled love and eminent proposals. Harry had ignored them. He didn’t see a reason to correct them. Not when Draco was in a different country. Not when Draco had made it so clear he wouldn’t ever love him.

~~~~~~~~~

“Oh,” He says gently, looking at Draco wide eyed, “I’d forgotten about that. The papers were wrong.”

“What do you mean the papers were wrong?” Draco asks, words slow, like they’re being dragged out of him one at a time.

“Me and Ginny were never together like that, at least not since the war.” Harry tells him carefully.

Draco gulps, Harry watches his adams apple bob in his throat.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, finally looking away from Harry’s eyes. Harry wants to grab his jaw and turn his face back. Instead, he clenches his fists around the white sheets and focuses on the way the fabric tightens over his skin.

“I’m sorry.” Draco tells him. He’s still looking away. Harry watches his eyelids flicker rapidly.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” Harry’s voice trembles. “I mean you could have stayed and fought.”

“I know.” Draco’s voice is rough. “Merlin, I know. I’ve thought about you every single day since I left.”

“Draco,” He exhales. He wants to tell Draco that this is the best thing that’s happened to him, maybe ever. But he catches himself. Instead, he reaches over and clasps Draco’s forearm, giving him a stern look. “I thought about you too.”

Draco finally turns back to him, catching his gaze in a flash of silver. “But you can’t forgive me,” His voice was flat, his mouth turned down at the corners.

Harry focuses on the warmth of Draco’s skin under his palm. He takes a deep breath and his lungs expand. “I can’t forgive you immediately,” He corrects.

The corners of Draco’s mouth tug up slightly, “Okay,” He says, “Okay, I can work with that.” Then he pauses, “You can tell me to leave now if you want. The last thing I want to do is overstay my welcome.”

Harry looks him square in the eyes, he looks more than a little pathetic, eyes wide and fretful. “Stay for breakfast.” He squeezes Draco’s arm and feels it through his skin as his muscles relax.

“Thank you,” Draco tells him gently, leaning into his side, “For letting me stay, but also for hearing me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. A small smile spreads it’s way across Draco’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco takes the first shower.

Which is fine, because Harry is polite and Draco is his guest and of course they both want to be clean for work. It’s also not fine, because it turns out that sitting on your bed listening to the sound of water against the naked body of a beautiful man is actually horrendously torturous.

Harry isn’t freaking out. It’s just that his mind is going in two horribly incompatible directions. Part of him is back 10 minutes ago combing over the words of their conversation, trying to decide what it would take for him to truly forgive Draco. The other half of him is dedicated to painting a picture of Draco right now, the way his head is tilted back under the shower-head, the gentle curve of his back, the swell of his bum barely exposed through the steam collecting around him.

Harry pushes himself off of the bedspread and begins to pace. The wood floor is cool under his feet. He wracks his brain for anything that could distract him from his thoughts and displace the heat that is slowly pooling in his stomach. He is unsuccessful.

When the shower shuts off Harry halts in his tracks. Okay. This won’t be awkward. Why would it be awkward now? It will be fine. Just as long as Harry keeps his eyes away from Draco and doesn’t blurt out anything stupid. He wrings his hands behind his back and pretends to be extremely focused on digging through his drawers for a change of clothes

At the sound of the bathroom door Harry looks back and freezes. He doesn’t fidget. He doesn’t sway. He doesn’t move.

There, standing before him is Draco, towel slung loosely around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders. A droplet of water snakes across the swell of his chest, continues down over his lithe abdomen and disappears, absorbed by the towel. He’s so close to Harry. Close enough that Harry could lean forward just a very little way and place his hands on Draco’s slim waist. Close enough that he could lean forward and kiss him.

“Could I borrow some clothes?” Draco says, voice all gravel and depth, so much so that it sends a spark right through Harry’s core.

He stares dumbly at Draco blinking for a couple seconds. “Oh, yeah, um, clothes. Yeah I’ve got clothes,” He babbles nonsensically and gestures at the dresser before fleeing to the bathroom.

He slams the door quickly and leans against it. In the mirror he watches his blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck.

Harry takes his shower quickly. He turns the water up till it’s scalding. As it pours over his body he watches his stomach and thighs turn bright pink. He wonders what it would be like if Draco was there with him, his knees bent against the tile, his mouth hot against Harry’s dick. Angrily he caves in and has the shortest most embarrassing wank of his life. When he comes, he raises his free hand to his mouth, biting down on his fist to muffle his sighs.

Afterwards, Harry wraps a towel tightly over his hips and swings the bathroom open with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel. Draco is laying back across Harry’s bed wearing one of his button downs. The sight of him makes Harry’s heart flutter.

“Did the clothes fit okay?” At the sound of his voice Draco pushes himself off of the bed into a sitting position. Harry notes the way his eyes flicker down across his bare chest with interest.

“Oh yeah,” Draco says sheepishly, “Thanks again.”

As Harry turns away he adds with a smile in his voice, “I forgot your nipples were weirdly pointy.”

Harry grabs a shirt from the closet and whirls around, “You're having me on, my nipples are not weirdly pointy. If anything, your face is weirdly pointy.”

“Ooo,” Draco says sarcastically, “Burn.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him and tries to focus on getting dressed. He fumbles a couple times, distracted by the heat of Draco’s eyes on his body, but eventually prevails.

“Well, what do you say?” He asks Draco, once his legs are firmly in his pants and he’s buttoned his shirt twice to get the buttons even, “Are you ready to head down for breakfast?”

“Sure,” Draco says, smirking at him. Then he pauses, the line of his mouth falters, “Um, wait is that going to be okay? I mean, for Theo and Ginny to know I slept here?”

“ Oh, uh, yeah. They know about you,” Harry pauses, wincing at his inability to explain situations clearly, “I mean like they know about eighth year. They know we’re figuring things out. And I think they assumed you were sleeping over. We were all clearly too drunk to apparate.”

“They know about us?” Draco says slowly, as if he doesn’t comprehend.

‘Yes.” Harry says and Draco releases a sudden breath, head snapping up. There’s something in his eyes that Harry can’t quite read. On instinct Harry steps forward. He covers the ground between them in two steps and then he’s standing over Draco, legs bracketing him on either side.

“I’m glad they know.” Draco admits in a rush, his head tipped back and his blonde hair streaming behind him. Harry’s breath freezes in his chest. He reaches out and as his fingertips ghost across Draco’s jawline he realizes his hands are trembling. Their skin against each other feels like static electricity, like with one wrong move they could both get shocked. When Harry leans in he does it without thinking. When their lips finally meet it feels like ascendancy.

Bang

Harry’s bedroom door flies open and slams into the wall with a careless intensity. He jumps back from Draco as if he’s been burned.

“Harry! We’re going to be late.” Ginny yells as she barrels over the threshold. “Oh fuck!” She exclaims when she notices Draco perched on the bed looking particularly pale.

“Sorry! Merlin's beard, I didn’t realize you were here. Well, um, Theo’s made pancakes. They’re ready when you’re ready. Oh, and don’t take too long. We have to be at the office at 9:30, Harry.” She flushes bright red and rushes out of the room.

“Well,” Draco says slowly, a wry grin on his face. “I guess we’d better get down there.” He stretches his arms above his head exposing a sliver of pale stomach and Harry wants to tackle him back onto the bed.

“You’re right,” Harry replies. His voice comes out rough.

The Boy with the Dragon Tattoo

For @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts Challenge. My candy heart prompt was “Hot Lips”. I had so much fun writing this!!

Remus stills, tracing his eyes up the photo. The photographer has captured a man standing on a white beach. He’s wearing nothing but swim shorts, bright blue fabric wet, and clinging to shapely thighs. The way he carries himself looks familiar, something about the tilt of his chin and the slight tension in his shoulders. 

When Remus looks closer his breath catches in his throat because there, spread across the man's solar plexus is the wingspan of a dragon, fire spilling from its mouth and falling across a broad chest. Squinting Remus lifts the phone out of Lily’s hands and nearer to his face. The man’s eyes are cut off at the top of the frame and the last thing he can see is a strong jawline and lips that Remus would recognize anywhere. They’re red and full and curved into a small smirk. Remus traces his finger along them smiling; he remembers the way those lips had felt like against his, hot and wet and like he’d never get enough. 

“Remus? What is it?” Lilly interrupts his thoughts. She’s staring across the table at him, eyes wide and concerned. With a start Remus remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. He drags his eyes off the man’s body and quickly reads the caption: Sirius Black Shows off Mysterious New Tattoo. 

Oh, so that explains the way his phone has been blowing up all morning, he thinks, before his brain goes a little fuzzy, a little blank. Because who is Sirius Black exactly? Remus isn’t prepared for this. He looks up to Lilly hoping she doesn’t notice the slight tremor in his voice, “Um have you heard of someone named Sirius Black?” 

She answers him slowly, her tone confused, “Uh yes he’s only the front man of London's most popular rock group?” 

Remus stares at her,  his eyes unblinking. He must sit there frozen for long enough for Lily to realize that something is really wrong, because the next thing he knows she's on his side of the table, sliding into the chair next to him and wrapping him in her arms. 

“What is it?” She asks carefully, eyes on his face. 

“Um,” Remus doesn’t know what to say. When he gestures to the photo on his phone screen he notices his hands are shaking in barely visible tremors. “That’s mine.” 

“What do you mean?” Lilly asks, her voice soft, “Sirius Black?” She leans forward to get a better glance at the picture and suddenly she looks up at Remus, her eyes widening. “Oh! You mean the tattoo.” 

“Yes,” Remus looks back at her, “Remember the man I told you about two weeks ago who stayed during the power outage? The one who -“ He breaks off not sure if he’s allowed to talk about the kiss now. Now that Sirius is someone famous, someone unfathomable. 

“Oh!” Lily said again, this time her eyes are as wide as saucer plates. “Oh my god. I don’t know what to say. No wonder you’re reacting like that. This is insane.”